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Rowan and Heather(continued) By Eilis O'Neal Rowan suddenly felt young, and small. A makeup salesgirl,
and an ordinary one at that. She took a few steps forward and, wishing
she felt braver, said, "Well, what do you want?" The Queen looked down on her from the platform, and something
like sadness flickered through her eyes. "I want a new face,"
she said. Rowan shook her head. "I don't understand." The Queen was abruptly standing beside her, though Rowan
could not recall her coming down from the platform. "I've seen
what you do, your magic. It is rare in a human, the ability to cast
a glamour as you do, but it is a different magic from ours. I want you
to do what you do to your sister and those who come to your job. I want
you to give me a new face." "It doesn't last," Rowan started. "A few
days at most and —" The Queen's eyes widened fractionally, and with an imperial
air she said,"Your magic is different from the kind worked in Faerie.
When it mixes with mine, it will stick for many years." Rowan raised her eyes to Heather who still sat, doll-like,
on the platform. "But why this? You could have just asked. I give
makeovers for free at the mall all day." The Queen laughed then, a roll of thunder in Rowan's ears,
but when she stopped, she seemed perplexed. "How human. We give
nothing for nothing. Why should you be any different?" "Because sometimes humans do give things for
nothing," Rowan said. "You could have asked." Rhys shifted on the platform, causing the Queen to glance
over her shoulder at him. "There is another thing," she said
when she turned back to Rowan. "To give me a new face will not
be like casting a glamour on your sister for a few hours. When you work
your magic on her, you ask her what she wants to be. Her desires, her
wishes. A bit of her soul reaches out and mingles with your desires,
with a bit of your soul. I have no soul." Reaching out her hand, the Queen cupped Rowan's face with
it. Rowan trembled, but did not pull back. "Don't you see? To give
me a new face, you will have to give me a piece of your heart. And you
will not get it back. That is the price for your sister." Rowan turned her head away from the Queen, eyes fixed
on the pearl ring on her finger. "Will I notice it, that it's gone?"
she asked finally. "I have little knowledge of souls," the Queen
answered. "I think you may notice its absence. But humans chip
off bits of their souls all the time, for money or power or love. Those
things often vanish after the piece of soul has been given. At least
you will have your sister." I wonder what that bit of soul contains, Rowan
thought. What I'll be missing if I give it away. She bit her
lip and looked at Heather. What would you be missing if you kept it?
whispered another part of her. "I'll do it," she said. "Good," the Queen of Faerie said. "Come
with me."
Inside lay a golden room. A few girls, who looked human
except for their enormous eyes and doe ears, rose as Rowan and the Queen
entered. Again the Queen spoke softly, and they left. "I have prepared all that you will need," the
Queen said as she motioned to a corner of the room. There stood a gold dresser piled with cosmetics and a
large mirror. Rowan stepped forward and fingered a pot of eyeshadow
from Open Rose, eyeing the other cases and brushes from many different
manufacturers. "I suppose it's made of fairy gold," she said
with a glance at the shining dresser. "Would it be leaves and sticks
if I took it outside?" The Queen merely raised an eyebrow and sat down on a cushioned
stool in front of the mirror. A similar stool appeared behind Rowan;
she hooked it with her ankle and sat down. Rowan looked at the makeup on the dresser and then at
the Queen. "I know you said this wouldn't be like what I do with
humans, but I have to start somewhere. Tell me what you want to look
like. Why you want a new face." The Queen regarded her, then lifted her eyes to some point
Rowan could not see. "Years ago, humans loved and feared us. Some
loved more than others and some feared more than others, but they knew
us. They knew tricks to avoid us and words to call us. They filled their
stories with us. And with each story we were given new faces. I have
been all the Queens of human imagination. Hera, Mab, Titania. All these
and more your poets named me. "But now we fade. You forget your stories, and we
get no new faces. I grew tired of this one." "I'm no storyteller," Rowan said quietly. The Queen shrugged. "All things change. Even in Faerie.
Perhaps it will not last. But then, the poets poured a bit of their
souls into their stories. That was their magic. You will give up a bit
of your heart as well with your modern magic. Perhaps that is all that
is needed." "What if I can't do it? What if the magic won't work
on you?" Rowan asked. Again the Queen shrugged. "Then your sister is lost."
Letting her long fingers trail across the dresser, she said, "I
think it will work, though." With a sigh, Rowan picked up a large brush and compact
of blush; she couldn't see the need to apply foundation to the Faerie
Queen's alabaster face. "Give me three words about the way you
want to look." "I care not, so long as it is different from the
way I look like now." Rowan cast a doubtful look at the brush in her hand. "I've
never changed anyone without words."
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